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  There was a groan from the main-mast as some of the crew began to hoist the anchor. The bosun joined Benson and Crabbe to lift the Lash, his hands now bound behind him, into the air so that he could be tied to the weight. They stood him upright on the rail as the anchor was swung onto the rail. Aaron whimpered. McSwain chuckled.

  “Any last words, Lash?”

  Henry faced the crew with a nasty sneer. “If ye let him do this, ye’ll be cursed forever. Not t’ mention the fact that ye’ll be bound to him as long as the curse lasts. Roth, make sure Aaron gets taken care of?”

  Roth, his eyes wide in fear, shifted his gaze from Henry to the Captain. “I- Please, Cap’n, don’t . . .”

  “Quiet!” McSwain snapped, his eyes narrowed. “Search him an’ be quick about it!!”

  Crabbe jumped up on the rail next to Henry and began going through his pockets. When he found the silver, he pulled the coins and gewgaws out and took them to McSwain. Angus slid them into his own pocket then nodded. At the subtle signal, Benson and the bosun cut the lines holding the weight aboard the ship. A fraction of a second later, Henry cried out and disappeared over the side of the ship, sucked under the waves and into the briny depth in the blink of an eye. McSwain let Aaron collapse bonelessly to the deck as he leaned over the rail to make sure the Lash was really gone. When he straightened, he kicked lightly at Aaron.

  “One o’ ye, take this below an’ lock it in. Wouldn’t do t’ have him tryin’ something now, would it?”

  There was a brief hesitation then Roth moved forward, dragging Aaron upright then down to the Captain’s cabin. As he placed Aaron on the bunk, he noticed the tears on Johnson’s face. He looked down at the deck though he was really seeing the face of a man with golden eyes. “I will, Henry, I’ll see he’s cared fer.”

  )O(

  Chapter 5:

  September 1713

  One last ship to raid before they headed to the Isle of the Fates to return more of the cursed treasure and off-load the treasure that was causing the Maid to wallow in the water like a hog in mud. For all that, though, she was still the fastest ship he’d ever commanded. Possibly it was the curse. He liked to think it was his own will that made her fly before the wind like a cloud. McSwain lifted the spyglass to his eye again and studied the little schooner before them. A merchant vessel, she flew a British flag and had that distinctive set in the water that told him she was loaded, particularly to the aft.

  “Run out the sweeps an’ make ready the guns. Easy pickin’s, lads.”

  Since he’d put the Lash off the ship, the crew had settled down aside from the occasional harmless grumbling. Still and all, he did keelhaul the occasional crewman for some infraction though most other punishments were pretty useless as things existed. He glanced down at the main deck and saw a flash of black hair. Aaron was loose again.

  “Benson! Crabbe, I thought ye locked him in!! Find ‘im and put ‘im back!!” McSwain’s biggest fear was that Aaron would escape. With Aaron as his prisoner, he could maintain a bit of contact with the small portion of humanity that was left inside him. He saw Aaron sprint across the forecastle and Crabbe snag him by the throat. “Careful with that, ye filthy dog! I want him alive!”

  Aaron’s eyes met his briefly, a flash of hate in them as Benson joined his matelot to drag McSwain’s prisoner below. It was about a month ago that he’d had to have Garcia keelhauled for helping himself to Johnson one night while McSwain was meeting with another pirate. When Angus came back to the ship, he’d found Johnson huddled in a corner, bleeding copiously. Fortunately, they were able to fetch a physician and get him treated but the jealousy that snaked through McSwain’s guts, not to mention the fear that he’d nearly lost him, forced him to act. Once they were out at sea, Garcia was keelhauled every night for a fortnight. It didn’t hurt—couldn’t have, if the truth was told—but he wasn’t right in the head afterward. Then again, McSwain found himself thinking, we’re none of us right in the head anymore. Least of all Johnson.

  Marooning the Lash and then Garcia’s attack had snapped Johnson’s mind. Where once he’d talked freely, running off at the mouth being one of the things to set his nerves at ease around Angus, he now spoke very rarely. It probably did hurt to talk, from the sound of Johnson’s voice. The last few weeks, McSwain had taken to capturing young men from ships they raided or towns they sacked and bringing them aboard the Maid to use Aaron. It gave him something different to look at and it justified, in his own mind, his own subsequent assaults on Aaron. Some of them he killed once he finished with them for the night, some were dropped overboard for the sharks and the sea to claim. A few, a rare few, were given to the crew for sport. They usually ended up dead before they hit the water. Despite the company he provided Aaron, though, the former Captain was getting worse.

  “Sir, British ship off the larboard stern. Looks like a Navy ship. Want we should cut and run?” Ferguson asked.

  McSwain ran the ‘scope across the deck of the Naval ship and realized that they were sending a longboat over to the merchant ship. It gave him an idea.

  “Turn us t’ the larboard. Head fer the Navy ship, guns at the ready.”

  Used to their Captain’s lunatic demands, the men did as he told them. A fair wind was blowing in the proper direction so a swing of the wheel was all it took to get them headed for the ship bearing a lion and a unicorn as its figurehead. As they drew closer, they could hear the officers aboard the naval vessel ordering the guns loaded and the boat recalled. But the Maid moved too quickly and the men in the longboat soon realized they were in trouble.

  The longboat lay directly in the path of the Maid. McSwain smiled at the shameless audacity of the young officer in charge. Narrowing his eyes a bit, he pulled out the spyglass and focused on the face. A good strong English face, handsome but somewhat pale, as if he’d not known the Caribe as yet. McSwain could almost read his lips as he said, “Hold steady, men.” Something about his manner, his looks, made McSwain want to see him with Johnson. The image of that pale skin against the rum-brown hue of Johnson’s hide made his lust—never far below the surface—burn anew.

  He turned to Brennan. “Run ‘em down but make sure the Luff gets brought aboard. I got plans fer him.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Brennan replied then turned to bark orders at the men.

  A few shots were fired at the Maid but the officers aboard the ship were obviously concerned an errant cannonball might hit the longboat or the merchant vessel. The Maid fired a shot or two of her own but more as a declaration of hostile intent than as an actual attack. With a satisfying crunch and the jostle of impact, the prow of the Maid crushed the longboat into kindling. Ming and Ferguson tossed a net about the Lieutenant and began to haul him aboard. When one of the other sailors in the water caught the ropes and started to climb, Gunny shot him through the neck and he dropped into the water. No other men attempted to be rescued and within seconds, the Lieutenant was hauled over the rail.

  “Sails full!” McSwain called out. “We don’t need that bit o’ swag, eh, lads? But what have we here, eh?”

  Having scrambled to untangle himself from the net, the young Lieutenant stood with his back against the rail, glaring at them, his drawn sword the only thing preventing the Maid’s crew from seizing him. “Go on, ye maggots! He can’t kill ye. Take ‘im now!!”

  Four of them moved at once, one absorbing the sword’s blow and falling to the deck, the rest succeeding in seizing the naval officer, stripping his greatcoat and shoes from him in a matter of minutes. His dark hair was disheveled and his wet clothing revealed a sailor’s whipcord body, lean but hard. His arms were bound behind him and he was pushed forward to stand before McSwain. McSwain leered at him.

  “Yer name, navy?” Angus asked.

  “Dunbar, James, Lieutenant,” The young man sniffed. “And I would appreciate the return of my things.”

  When McSwain laughed, the Lieutenant flushed red but managed to keep his dignity. The men followed suit, laughing until Angus
quit abruptly. “Ye jus’ ferget about yer ‘things’, boy. They’re property o’ the Saucy Maid. Jus’ as you are now my property. Bosun, Ming, take ‘im to me quarters an’ secure ‘im. We don’t want ‘im gettin’ any ideas now, do we?”

  “Do you have any idea what you have done?” The Lieutenant snapped but the pirates holding him just gave him a shove toward the wardroom door.

  )O(

  Chapter 6:

  Later the Same Day

  James Dunbar swallowed hard and tried tugging at the knots that bound him again. Nothing. He sighed, heavily. He could guess that he was to be tortured in some fashion. What information he could provide, newly arrived to the Caribbean as he was, he didn’t know.

  The pirates who brought him here tied him to the bed in such a fashion that he could stand up or sit down. He didn’t know for certain what he was going to do if he did manage to escape because the Venture was probably many leagues away by now. He rested his head back against the bed-post behind him. It was at that moment, he heard someone cough raggedly. He glanced around to see faint movement in one of the darkened corners.

  “You there,” He snapped. “Who are you? Why are you skulking about?”

  For a moment, when the figure emerged into the half-light of the cabin, James had to catch his breath. At first, he wasn’t sure if it was a man or an angel. When the sapphire eyes met his though, he saw such pain and terror in those eyes that he realized it had to be a man. The man’s eyes narrowed.

  “My name is Dunbar, James Dunbar,” He licked his lips and swallowed hard. At the motion, the man retreated into the dark though Dunbar could tell he still stared at him. “What’s your name?”

  There was no response but he could sense the man was moving around the room, trying to approach without being seen. He turned his head and caught a flicker of movement nearly behind him. “You needn’t fear me, sir. I’m tied up at the moment. I’ve told you my name; it’s only polite to let me know yours.”

  There was still no answer. After a few minutes, though, he became aware the man was at his elbow, a tin cup in his hands. A hoarse voice whispered. “Ye mus’ be thirsty, aye?”

  When he nodded, the man put the cup to his lips and he tasted the lemony, yeasty flavor of grog. He drained the cup then heard the voice again. “Sorry, no more fer now. Wouldn’ want the Captain thinkin’ we was gettin’ too friendly, savvy?”

  Still not sure what that meant, James nodded anyway. He feared he was going mad as the man’s proximity and his sheer physical beauty made him crave more. “Of course not. And your name is?”

  Silence fell and the man returned to whatever it was that he’d been doing. James felt a slight stir of hope amid the other emotions making his head swim. Perhaps this man would be able to help him escape? Or at the very least to provide a distraction so he could? He wasn’t sure but he knew he had to try.

  “How long have you been here?” He asked, hoping to get some response from the man.

  Instead, the silence continued. He sighed heavily. “Do you have any idea what I’m here for? I assume they wish to question me, being an officer of His Majesty’s navy, but I’m not terribly certain it will be of much profit. Why are you here?”

  Slowly the face reappeared and the pupil-darkened eyes just gazed at him as if he were daft. It occurred to James at that moment that there was probably only one reason for a young man as beautiful as this was to be locked in the Captain’s cabin of a pirate ship. After a few more seconds, the thought occurred to him that perhaps he had been saved for the very same reason. The thought made him ill.

  “Does he hurt you?” James asked suddenly. The eyes narrowed and he disappeared back into the darkness. James felt like kicking himself. “No, he just locks me in here so that he can make sweet, passionate love to me.” What’s wrong with me? Of course, he hurts him!

  “My apologies, sir, for being naïve. I, uh, suppose the chance of obtaining something to eat is out of the question?” James queried, making one final effort at getting some additional sound out of the black-haired man.

  To his amazement, the man brought him a pear then freed his hands so he could eat it. He took a bite then realized the black-haired man was staring at him as he ate. He noticed the man was very thin so he offered the fruit to his fellow captive. “Go ahead. Take it.”

  There was a slow shake of the head though he licked at lips that, up close, he could tell were split and bruised. He started to reach out to offer his hand in greeting and the man blinked and flinched away, fear making his breathing come in gasps. He drew his hand back slowly, far more disappointed than he expected he would be.

  “I won’t hurt you,” He said as earnestly as he could. He longed to see those blue eyes regarding him with trust and affection. “You’ve been very good to me, you know. Might I have your name so that I can thank you properly?”

  Another head-shake and the black-haired man disappeared into the darkness again. James thought, briefly, about trying to make an escape but it occurred to him that, should he disappear, the master of this ship might very well blame it on his fellow captive. The thought of this kind soul being hurt because of him made him angry. He finished the fruit and rested his head against the bed-post. It was warm in the cabin, almost too warm, and with the rocking of the ship on the tide, James found his eyes drifting closed. He was still a bit damp from his swim when the longboat had been destroyed but, all things being equal, he might have been in a much worse condition. He thought about Dunkirk, the man who had been shot for trying to be rescued by the Saucy Maid. He hadn’t really known him all that well but he was sorry for the man’s fate none-the-less.

  James started awake to find a blanket over him, another folded blanket pillowing his head. He rolled onto his back and spotted the black-haired man watching him from a corner. He smiled and sat up.

  “My thanks for the blankets. How long was I asleep?”

  His companion shrugged and moved away again. He’s like a bird, James remarked to himself. Always watching, always ready to take flight. He has been badly mistreated. He felt the urge to offer comfort and reassurance but the opportunity never presented itself. He looked up to see his companion move into the lantern light and realized his hair was as dark as a raven’s feathers. Raven, it is, He decided, the name seemed to fit. Within a few seconds, he returned to sleep and to the half-formed dream in which he chased a black-feathered bird.

  )O(

  He was in the Captain’s bunk with Henry, the quartermaster’s strong arms surrounding him as their bodies strove as one toward release. Henry was telling him how beautiful he was when he turned to look up into Stern’s face. Bone without flesh, eyes rolling in bare sockets, greeted him. As he looked, the amber color drained from the eyes leaving the icy green of Angus’s gaze. Angus laughed at him and whatever he had been doing with Henry was now hurting him beyond measure. He tried to get away but the ghostly hands held him like irons. He was cold, deathly cold, and could feel the ocean rising around him, shredding off his clothes, yanking at his hair. He sobbed and tried to swim but Angus appeared above him.

  “Apple?” He offered then began pelting him with the green and red fruit. When Aaron tried to break the surface to breathe, another apple would be shoved into his mouth and he would be forced back under. He wanted to cry for help, wanted to escape somehow but knew that ropes binding him to a broken anchor held him in place. Most of all, he just wanted to breathe free again.

  When he heard Garcia’s voice in his ear calling him “pretty little puto,” he felt himself being torn inside. The pain never stopped anymore, just got worse. He managed to break free of Garcia for precious seconds then the metal hook on Garcia’s hand snagged his throat, drawing him back against the other pirate’s well-muscled body. He choked for air as he was forced to the floor and the pain began anew. He finally managed to draw a breath but doing so caused him to cough . . .

  Coughing woke him again. He opened his eyes and realized he was still in the captain’s cabin. Something
tickled his cheek and he wiped at the tears on his face. The nightmare had started after Garcia raped him. He was gazing out the empty cannon port at the little island where they’d made port when the key turned in the lock. Thinking it was McSwain, he’d not scrambled to hide as he had before. But when the tall, burly pirate came in, he’d tried to run. He’d made it as far as the wardroom and one of the secret panels there. He remembered wedging himself into the tiny space used for smuggling and having to fight to hold the door shut. One inopportune inhalation, though, had revealed him to his attacker. He tried to scream but Garcia’s meaty fingers dug into his windpipe and he was tossed onto the dining table. Garcia was so much stronger than he was, especially in the shape he was now, that it was a miracle he’d been able to get away again.

  The second time, Garcia had used the hook to haul him back and it had done something to his throat. When Garcia had finished “playing” with him, he’d managed to crawl into a corner to await Angus’s inevitable return and revenge. To his surprise, Angus hadn’t beaten him for being raped. Instead, he’d brought in a doctor who had prescribed potions to put him to sleep while he was treated, good food and strict bed-rest. Most of which McSwain had ignored, of course.

  The Naval officer was asleep. Aaron found himself drawn to the man again, edging closer in the darkness until he was close enough to inhale the man’s scent. James, He reminded himself, He said his name was James Dunbar. Dear God, don’t let Angus kill this one. Please help him get away. I-I think I like him, a little. He could smell pomade, salt-water, a bit of gunpowder and tar on the younger man and it made him swallow hard. He’s not beautiful like Henry but he is handsome. Lady of the sea, you have to help him. He should not be here.